


All of Me, All of You

by White_Rainbow



Category: Captain America, Captain America: Civil War (No Spoilers), Civil War Movie
Genre: Dancing, First Time Kissing Stories, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Fluffy Finale, Little bit of kissing, M/M, Music, Slow Burn, a bit of combat, a bit of dirty thoughts, a little bit of grinding, awkward lap sit, brief masturbation, bucky's hurt, nothing gratuitous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-06-07 07:13:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6792811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/White_Rainbow/pseuds/White_Rainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky and Sam are stuck together until Cap can find Bucky a safe place to live. In the meantime what better place to hide than with a man he can't stand. Trust me, Sam isn't pleased with the arrangement either. Not with that broody gaze, that scent of sweat and leather, that scruffy beard... It probably feels soft...velvety, especially if...wait, no no...Bucky dropped a BUILDING on Sam earlier that week. This definitely won't work! Nope...not at all...</p><p>Excerpt:<br/>Bucky usual frowning face deepened into a genuine scowl. “I’m going to sit one way or another, whether you move or not.”<br/>Sam laughed. “Good luck with that, buddy. I’m not about to get pushed around by a-HEY!”<br/>Bucky weighed a ton. He sat down on Sam’s right thigh with a harsh thud that made the Falcon’s leg kick out involuntary. “Bucky, what the hell?”l</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're In My Seat

**Author's Note:**

> This is for marqued, who came up with this lovely concept! <3 Thank you for being my muse!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! [White-Rainbowff](http://white-rainbowff.tumblr.com/)

 

Every muscle screamed at Sam as he walked through the subway car looking for an open seat. He could hear the clunky boots of Bucky Barnes behind him, each footfall grating on his nerves. Bucky had ruined the operation just like he ruins everything, all aggression and no finesse. Falcon could have partnered with  _ anyone  _ else, even the unseasoned Wanda would have made less of a mess than this ex-Winter Soldier.

Earlier that day Sam specifically told Bucky to wait. 

He literally said the words. “Wait. Here.” Two words! How hard was that?

And did he wait? The answer came in the form a crumbled warehouse, sparking and smoking, with two Hydra operatives squashed beneath. 

Sam had climbed out of the rubble, patting himself off, rock dust and ash covering him, stinging his eyes, tickling his nose. 

“What was that about?" He coughed, puffs of smoke exiting his lungs like a pissed off dragon. "We were supposed to take them down only if it was  _ absolutely  _ necessary.”

“We stopped them,” Bucky said, standing atop the rubble, clean of debris. He swung a smoking rocket launcher over his metal shoulder as though it weighed next to nothing. “It was necessary.”

“Yeah,” he said, sneezing between words. “except now...we can’t question...them.”

Bucky had said nothing. Merely threw the spent weapon onto the crumpled building and walked back to the VW bug, Cap’s signature “inconspicuous vehicle.”

And now here they were, Sam covered in, dust, cuts and bruises, Bucky infuriatingly unscathed and clean. If Sam was a lesser man, he would have punished Bucky somehow, some small passive-aggressive (or maybe more aggressive) sort of way. But no, Sam Wilson aka Falcon was a professional, an Avenger. Always.

There was one bench unoccupied on the full subway. Sam quickly slipped in to claim it, sitting smack dab in the middle. With a satisfied groan he leaned back and stretched out his sore back. With a wince he spread his legs wide and let his muscles sing as he extended them. “Ahhhhh,” he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Bucky stood over him. Sam could not see this necessarily, but he could _feel_ the hulking mass cast a shadow over him.

Sam opened an eye. “Yeah?”

“Move over.”

Sam closed his eyes and shifted to get more comfortable. “Sorry, Buck. No room.”

“Yes, there is.” Bucky replied. 

“I have to stretch out. It’s  _ necessary. _ ” He said, flinging Bucky's words back at him. 

Okay, so he didn’t have to be professional  _ all the time _ . 

But then Bucky stepped in close. _Really close._

Sam's eyes shot open. Bucky stood between Sam’s separated legs. His hair hung in brown curtains over his face casting a formidable shadow on his square face. His eyes were hard set, just as everything was hard set about him.

“I have been standing all day. Move. Over.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Oh, did a building fall on you too? I’m sorry I was too busy picking rubble out of my hair to notice.” Sam rubbed his velvety hair and was actually surprised to see a few bits of white plaster pop out and fall to the ground, emphasizing his point perfectly.

Bucky usual frowning face deepened into a genuine scowl. “I’m going to sit one way or another, whether you move or not.”

Sam laughed. “Good luck with that, buddy. I’m not about to get pushed around by a-HEY!”

Bucky weighed a  _ ton.  _ He sat down on Sam’s right thigh with a harsh thud that made the Falcon’s leg kick out involuntary. “Bucky, what the hell?”

People were watching the display with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. A quick glare from Bucky to the other passengers and soon everyone returned to their business away from the two Superheroes. 

“Get off,” Sam growled, sitting up straighter, pulling his thighs together. 

Bucky moved with Sam's thigh, he faced away from Sam, but the Falcon could practically feel the stubbornness carved into Bucky's face. 

“You should have moved.” Bucky replied simply.

“Like hell! You let a building _fall_ on me. You don’t get rewarded by sitting on my lap.” Sam felt his cheeks grow hot. He didn’t mean  _ reward _ necessarily. Why would it be a reward?

Bucky adjusted himself and swung a leg over Sam’s other thigh, which at least helped distribute his weight, but now Sam had a bigger problem.

_ Bigger...problem... _  Sam's eyes grew wide.  _ Not now, please,  _ he told his lower anatomy that was starting to grow interested in whomever was sitting _juuuuuust_ right in his lap.

“This isn’t a reward,” Bucky said, and it was odd because it sounded a bit defensive. “I wanted to sit and now I’m sitting.” He shifted again.

Sam bit his lip before realizing what he was doing, then let it go quickly. He couldn't deny he  had always admired Bucky physically. That "shiny" disposition of his, however, never failed to sour any kind of attraction he’d have for the “Frosty” Soldier. Yet now, Bucky was moving that firm ass against his lap, brushing however unintentionally against Sam’s half-hard (not even half..more like, semi...a little bit) organ, Sam realized the predicament he was in.

He opened his mouth to tell Bucky to move. He was going to suggest that they could just sit next to each other. Then he could pretend that he wasn’t starting to get a hard-on for the man (it’s not even _for_ Bucky, it was just the position. Really!) He closed his mouth. And blushed harder, thankful that Bucky was turned away from him.

The third time Bucky shifted it was a little softer of a movement. And it didn’t feel as though he was still struggling to get into a comfortable position. It felt sort of...intimate. A slow grind. He moved up and back once before settling back on his thigh.

“B...Bucky?” Sam wished he hadn’t stuttered that.

Bucky immediately stood up and Sam quickly swung a leg up, resting his right ankle on his left knee to hide any evidence of  _ anything _ . 

“I’ll just stand.” Bucky said, not turning around, and stayed like that for the rest of the awkward Subway ride to Sam’s house.

 


	2. In the Mood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t a bad piece of music. Upbeat, lots of horns, catchy. It didn’t seem the sort of music he could picture Bucky he knew now listening to much less dance to.  
> But back in the day, if what Cap had said was true…  
> Suddenly, Sam had an image of a smiling, clean cut Sergeant Bucky Barnes dressed in a crisp brown uniform, his officer’s cap tilted to the side in a suave way akin to those classic movies on AMC. The handsome soldier would be standing in the middle of the dance floor, snapping his hands, eyes closed, absorbing every part of the tune. His hips would swing the music, his heels moving smoothly across the floor as he slides towards Sam. Then that smiling Bucky would open his eyes, bite his lip and coax Sam onto the floor with him, tugging at his belt loops and pulling him close…
> 
> Bucky's favorite songs in case you wanted to listen to them :-)  
> [In the Mood by Glenn Miller](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bR3K5uB-wMA)   
> [New Birmingham Breakdown by Duke Ellington](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cFAqqfgjvVU)

It took a few minutes before Sam realized Bucky hadn’t followed him. Popping his head out of the kitchen, he saw the ex-Winter Soldier standing awkwardly on the other side of the front door. 

“You know there’s a whole house attached to that doorway.” Sam held out bottle of Blue Moon. “And it has beer too.”

Bucky didn’t smile because that would have required effort. What didn’t require effort was the blank look he gave Sam giving zero indication that he planned on moving.

“Suit yourself,” Sam shrugged and went back into the kitchen, leaving the second beer on the island countertop as he passed into the living room.

With a loud satisfied sigh, Sam plopped himself onto the couch took a hearty gulp of the suds. Short of needing an orange slice and a frosty mug, it did exactly what he needed too. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His entire body throbbed, still. Aspirin wasn’t going to take care of this, a shower probably wasn’t either, but as soon as his beer was finished he planned on giving it a shot.

The thought of having Bucky roaming around his house while he was showering wasn’t a comforting thought.

_ And can’t exactly as him to join me…wait, no what is wrong with me? _

Several minutes later, the dull thudding of Bucky’s boots quietly made their way into the kitchen. The sound of glass tinkling against tile sounded as the assassin picked up the bottle. A smile pulled at Sam’s lip, but evaporated when he heard those footsteps come into the living room, then stop about three steps in.

Sam opened his eyes and once again Bucky was frozen in the doorway. Cap once told Sam he could charm the paint off the walls in his soldier days and now the man could barely make an entrance. Bucky looked at the living room as though it was enemy territory, surveying the exits, studying the windows, he took a few cautious steps in, his eyes gliding over every object in the room as though distrusting the very lamps that lit the place.

“Bucky, you’re safe here.” Sam said, affording the man a tender smile...which Bucky didn’t notice...nor did he give any indication he heard Sam. Instead he lumbered over to the bookshelf which covered a good portion of the wall adjacent to the hallway. Each shelf was lined with books, framed pictures of friends he spoke to anymore and family he hadn’t seen in far too long. It also housed his most prized possession: His collection of record albums.

Bucky seemed to zero in on those and hung his head scan them with a serious expression. The beer frothed in his hand, the sudsy head peeking up over the lip and over the bottleneck.

“Are you planning on drinking that? Or will I get to enjoy slipping on it later,” Sam said. Bucky glanced at Sam who nodded to the beer and then to his hardwood floors. With a moment of consideration, Bucky quietly lifted the bottle to his lips. His pink tongue dragged along the bottleneck in a slow swirl, lapping up the frothy liquid before it reached his fingers. He then wrapped his mouth around the lip of the bottle and tipped it up. Sam held his breath as Bucky closed his eyes, his neck elongating, his adam’s apple moving up and down as he drank. Those lips pulled away from the bottle as if in slow motion, his tongue making an appearance to lick away some of the liquid. The assassin’s stormy blue eyes met Sam’s brown orbs for half a second too long before finally turning to the album collection again.

Sam blinked and sat forward, taking another quick swig of his own brew.

_ Relax, man. He’s just drinking his beer. _

It was strange having another man stay in his house that he  _ wasn’t  _ planning on sleeping with. And like hell would he even thinking about trying to with Bucky. On top of the fact that he was impulsive and reckless in the field, he sucked the energy out of the room the moment he walked in and it was going to get pretty suffocating this week as it was.

_ Oh and don’t forget he is a master conversationalist.  _ Sam rolled his eyes.  _ Just remember why you’re doing this…because you can’t say no to Cap’s blue doe-eyes. _

No man should be allowed to look that pretty and be so hopelessly unavailable. How could Sam say no to that face?

“No,” he had actually said to Cap earlier that week.

Cap frowned at him, his lip pouting without meaning to, which made it all the more endearing. “It’s just for a few days. Maybe a week.”

“Uh uh, Cap. Not even for  _ maybe a day _ . He’s a pain. And he is  _ your  _ pain.”

Then Steve pulled out the “big guns”: Those puppy dog eyes, those crystal blue irises surrounded by light blonde eyelashes. Steve batted those eyelashes at him and in a soft, sad voice said, “He’s been through a lot, Sam. I want to find him somewhere safe to live. In the meantime I need him to be somewhere no one will find him.”

Sam sighed. “Ahh, and where better than with someone who audibly can’t stand the guy?”

Steve shrugged. “He’s not a fan of this either.”

“That doesn’t help, Cap. But fine. You owe me.”

And there it was. That All-American-Boy Smile, a pretty row of teeth behind a perfect grin. “Thanks, Sam. I really do owe you.”

_ Ugh, the heartbreaker.  _ He had never been so happily wrapped around a friend’s finger.

“Do you have a phonograph?” Bucky asked.

Sam blinked, pulling himself back from the starry-eyed memory of that Star-spangled man.

“Huh?”

“A phonograph,” Bucky repeated.

Sam sat up. “Oh right. Yeah, well no, but I have stereo console, it’s the same thing,” then he sat up straight. “Did you…want to hear something?”

This time Bucky did look back at Sam with an unreadable dark expression. He gave a quick nodded.

Sam burst into an eager grin. “Alright! Pick something out, I’ll turn it on.”

_ Is the world coming to an end? Bucky appreciates music? Maybe this won’t be the longest three-days-maybe-a-week of my life. _

Sam went to the ornate Zenith console stereo, cleared off the magazines, crumpled up clothes, two dinner plates and three dirty beer mugs (he wasn’t exactly expecting company, alright?) off the walnut cabinet and flipped open the heavy countertop revealing the record player beneath.

He tried to hide his excitement, but a wide grin spread across his face as he looked down at the player.

No one appreciates the raw sounds of record albums anymore. These days, people preferred that cold crisp sound of a digital streaming to the soft delicate nature of music floating off a record. Even the ritual takes finesse, gently placing the needle on the smooth black surface. The anticipation listening to that staticky whisper of white noise just before the song plays.

“Nevermind…” Bucky said behind him. “I couldn’t find anything.”

Sam whirled around. “You couldn’t find anything?” Sam echoed, looking at three long rows jam packed with albums, alphabetized and categorized by genre. “I have everything from the Beatles to Whitney Houston and you’re telling me you couldn’t find  _ anything? _ ”

Bucky bristled. “No.”

“ _ Nothing _ ?” Sam pressed, because seriously he really had _ everything.  _ In fact, he prided himself on his wide-range of musical tastes! Every man he had invited over ended up finding something in his collection they enjoyed. There was always an album they could dance to, something they could kiss to, something he could play when guiding them to the bedroom…It was his ultimate pick-up line after all: “Go pick something out.”

_ Wait…did I just use a pick-up line on Bucky? _

Well, it didn’t matter. Bucky didn’t like anything in his collection anyway.

“Who…” Bucky started, then licked his lips nervously, turning away from Sam. “Who are the Beatles?”

_ Oh… _

Being friends with Cap for so long, Sam should have known better. Bucky was a man outside of his element in a world where nothing must look even remotely how he left it after he went on ice.

He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to see a whole record collection, objects so familiar to him, and not recognize any of the faces on the albums.

Guilt gnawed at Sam’s.  _ Wow, good job, asshole.  _ He berated himself.

“What did you want to listen to?” He asked. “If I had it.”

Bucky shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does. Tell me. Name anything you want to hear. Anything.”

With an uncomfortable shift of his feet, he finally said. “In the Mood.”

Sam arched an eyebrow. “In the mood for...what?”

“No, ‘In the Mood’ it’s by the Glenn Miller Orchestra, 1941.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, alright sure. Follow me.” He took a quick swig of his beer and placed it on the coffee table and walked down the hall towards his office. “Alright,” he said, plopping into the plush chair and flicking on the computer’s monitor. “Let’s see what we got here.”

Seconds later he was staring at a live recording of Glenn Miller Orchestra’s “In the Mood.” He smiled proudly and stood up. “Have a seat!”

In a way, Sam was envious of Bucky as the assassin sank cautiously into the chair, staring at the monitor as though it was going to reach out and bite him. Sam was young when he got his first computer, but he remembered the awe he felt when he pulled up his first video on a computer screen. He hoped it would illicit something like that with Bucky.

And it did.

That stony, hard face fell away. Those stern eyebrows lightened. The tightness in his jaw went slack and those lips opened in a soft gasp. Sam took a step back and leaned against the wall, not watching the screen, just studying Bucky’s reaction as he took in a video of the Glenn Miller Orchestra play the big band tune.

It wasn’t a bad piece of music. Upbeat, lots of horns, catchy. It didn’t seem the sort of music he could picture Bucky he knew now listening to much less dance to. 

But back in the day, if what Cap had said was true…

Suddenly, Sam had an image of a smiling, clean cut Sergeant Bucky Barnes dressed in a crisp brown uniform, his officer’s cap tilted to the side in a suave way akin to those classic movies on AMC. The handsome soldier would be standing in the middle of the dance floor, snapping his hands, eyes closed, absorbing every part of the tune.  His hips would swing the music, his heels moving smoothly across the floor as he slides towards Sam. Then that smiling Bucky would open his eyes, bite his lip and coax Sam onto the floor with him, tugging at his belt loops and pulling him close…

“I can listen to anything on here?”

Sam stood up so quickly, he almost stumbled forward, and he bumped clumsily into the desk. He straightened himself and coughed. “Yep! Yes...Yeah you can pull up pretty much anything. You name it and-”

“New Birmingham Breakdown!” Bucky blurted, then quickly bowed his head. It looked as if there was pink rising in his cheeks, but it was hard to tell under that curtain of hair he so quickly hid behind.

Sam stood next to Bucky, expecting him to stand up so Sam could slide in and pull up a new video. Instead, Bucky sat there, waiting and staring at the computer like a lump.

“Um...ok...one second then.”

Leaning across Bucky, he was very aware of how close he was to the man. He thought Bucky would at least lean back to let him angle his hands to type out “New Birmingham Breakdown” on the keyboard, but instead it felt as if Bucky leaned forward. 

“Duke Ellington,” Bucky said quietly. His voice was deep, the breath grazed Sam’s neck. 

Sam had never heard a name sound sweeter than  _ Duke Ellington _ before this moment and he resisted leaning into those lips. He took a deep breath, focusing on finding the song…yet his mind drifted.

Bucky smelled of sweat and leather, and little else. But it was an oddly comforting scent because it reminded him of Cap, except Steve always had a soft scent of aftershave on those smooth cheeks. Bucky on the other hand looked like he seldom shaved save for maybe every couple of days half-heartedly. His scruffy beard always looked rough, or maybe velvety. He wondered how soft the hair was.

_ What? No I don’t. I definitely don’t wonder that. He dropped a BUILDING on me today. _

“I kissed Charlie Thurgood to this song in ’39.” Bucky said. His voice was softer than Sam thought possible from the broodish man. His lips curled into a soft smile, eyes glazed as though lost in the memory. “We were working on his car in his garage. It was playing over the radio. He had a smudge of oil on his cheek...”

And now Sam was trying hard not to picture Bucky wiping oil off the cheek of a strapping young man. And definitely was not trying to picture Bucky pushing said man against some 1930s station wagon, slipping a tongue into the man’s mouth, grinding his hips into-

“I’m going to get another beer,” Sam said suddenly. “Go listen to whatever you want.”

Sam’s half-drunk beer in the living room was warmer than he’d like, but he grabbed it anyway and took a sip, taking his time and staring at his album collection, listening to the music play down the hall.

_ You want to pull yourself together, Sammy?  _ He cajoled himself.  _ He’s not Cap and he’s certainly not here because he wants to be.  _ You  _ don’t even want him here. _

So then why all this sudden interest. Was it because of the subway? The way Bucky had rubbed against him. That slow grind.

_ I didn’t just imagine it. But...there’s no way. We can’t stand each other. _

Bucky was reckless and volatile. He wasn’t someone Sam could trust and he could be damn sure of that after what he pulled today. This soft side of the ex-assassin wasn’t going to fool him. He’s nothing like Cap, he’s not a true Avenger.

“I’m sorry for today.”

Sam snapped his head up to see Bucky, once again standing in his favorite spot in the house, the doorway.

“Yeah, well, it’s alright.” Sam rubbed his neck. “Just next time, when I say wait, just wait.”

Bucky frowned. “No, I mean I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to take down the building.”

_ Yep, whatever happened in the subway  _ was  _ my imagination. _

“That’s why you’re sorry? Not sorry for disobeying orders?”

“ _ Orders?” _ Bucky said, narrowing his eyes. He actually emerged from the doorway. Despite only being a few inches taller, his broad shoulders thick boots made him tower over the Falcon. “I outrank you, fly boy.”

“Not in the Avengers you don’t,” Sam shot back, staring right back at the ex-Winter Soldier unblinking. “You stay in line or you’re out.”

Bucky stood closer...to close. “That’s Cap’s call. Not yours.”

Sam still didn’t move. “And do you think he’d agree that taking out a building while a fellow Avenger is inside is a  _ good  _ plan?”

“Yes.”

Sam threw up his hands. “No, Bucky! He wouldn’t!”

“It  _ was  _ a good plan. I saved your life. They already had that detonator ready to activate. All they needed was a reason to push it and you,” he pressed a gloved finger against Sam’s chest, “were ready to just drop-in, guns out, to what? Take them in?” He poked Sam again. “They would have taken themselves, you  _ and  _ the entire building with them. I  _ know  _ Hydra, they don’t surrender. Trust me. You were lucky I was there.”

Sam slapped Bucky’s finger away from his chest. “Just…tell me next time.”

“Fine!” Bucky snapped. “And maybe you’ll listen, and maybe you won’t.”

Before Sam could shoot back a less-than-convincing “Of course, I’ll listen,” (because let’s face it, he may not have) Bucky had already stormed out of the room, his boots thundering down the hallway

…then they came thundering back.

Sam squared his shoulders, prepared for the half-metal man to come around the corner, fists swinging.

Instead, Bucky peeked around the corner.

“Thank you for the songs.” He said, quietly, the words seemingly pulled out of his mouth against his will.

“Yeah, whatever,” Sam said rolling his eyes and moved to the kitchen. This was definitely a two-beer kinda night.

“No,” Bucky said sharply and emerged fully from the doorway, grabbing Sam’s arm to make him turn and face him. 

Sam spun and put a hand on Bucky’s chest just out of reflex. He only felt it there for a fraction of a moment - _ he was impossibly solid...and broad - _ before dropping his arm. Meanwhile Bucky held onto his free arm with his non-metallic hand. “I mean it. Thank you…” Those grey-blue eyes shone with something far different than resentment or hate that Sam had grown accustomed to. “Thank you, Sam.”

And with that he disappeared around the corner. This time Sam didn’t hear any footsteps, only the computer door closing and The New Birmingham Breakdown playing again in the background.


	3. Ain't Too Proud to Beg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He grunted and continued to stare out the window.  
> “Is it the music?” Sam pressed. “My singing? What?”  
> Bucky gritted his teeth. “No,” he felt the words being dragged out of his mouth. “I like...it.”  
> “Like what?”  
> He shot a dagger-like look at Sam only to realize the flyboy was actually confused at Bucky’s comment.  
>  _Don’t make me say this…_
> 
> Soundtrack for this Chapter are two of my favorite songs [Ain't Too Proud to Beg](https://youtu.be/den2vyVUS4c) by the Temptations and [Sittin' on the Dock of the Bay](https://youtu.be/rTVjnBo96Ug) by Otis Redding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr! [White-Rainbowff](http://white-rainbowff.tumblr.com/)

_“I kissed Charlie Thurgood to this song in ’39.” Why the hell did I say that?_

Bucky glared up at the ceiling in the guest room as though blaming it for his little confession today...

He hadn’t thought of Charlie in a long time. That small, lanky kid with black hair, dark eyes and skin toasted by long hours of sweating over his finicky Peugeot.

It didn’t feel like that long ago, a few years maybe. Certainly not almost eight decades.

Bucky still remembered vividly what Charlie tasted like when they kissed the first time, sweet and a little bitter from the beer he swigged moments before Bucky pulled him in.

_Charlie makes a soft sighing noise as they kiss. It drives Bucky wild. He grips Charlie’s hips and gently pushes him against the car._

Bucky slid a hand down over his boxer briefs beneath his blanket, casually running a hand over his half-hard shaft as he thought about those sounds.

_“Bucky…” Charlie gasps. “We can’t do it here.” But Charlie is already sliding onto the car hood as Bucky bends down, covering the bulge in Charlie’s overalls with soft kisses._

His hand slips beneath the elastic and he takes himself fully in his hand, exhaling sharply at the sensation. Had it been so long since he touched himself this way?

_“I know…” Bucky looks up and winks at him. “But isn’t that part of the fun?”_

_He hears Charlie groan as Bucky mouths the outline of his member against the denim._

A soft moan escape Bucky’s mouth before he can stop himself. Biting his lip he strokes himself slower.

_The scent of the garage and sweat and masculine musk overtakes his senses. He wants more. He wants to rip off those overalls and see what other sounds he can get out of him._

_But when he looks up again, another face is staring down at him. Dark and handsome, biting that luscious bottom lip hard as he looks back at Bucky with those hypnotic almond-shaped eyes._

_“Bucky…” Sam says in a smooth, velvety voice_.

Bucky’s heart seized and his eyes shot open. Yet, he didn’t pull his hand away. Not yet

... _why not? You can’t stand the guy!_

As much as he didn't want to remember his mind leaned towards the incident in the subway.  He honestly had only sat on the guy to irritate the shit out of him. It really seemed like a good idea until he actually sat down and realized the pickle he was in. He had felt himself grow hard almost instantly. It had shocked him...and intrigued him.

It had been a long time since he had been that physically close to anyone. And Sam smelled good, like sweat and gunpowder and an oaky smell of aftershave. He really hated that. He hated how good everything felt, how good he smelled, how much he wanted to just stay there on his lap, and maybe even lean a little closer. 

He had found himself grinding on Sam's lap for just an instant. And somehow Sam hadn't shoved him off, or protested. 

Instead he just said Bucky's name. That velvety voice uttering his name.

It was too much. Much too much...He had shot out of his seat unable to look at Sam to see if it was disgust or disappointment he wore on that infuriatingly good-looking mug of his.

 _I used to be so good at this._  He lamented.  _I used to know exactly what to say, what to do, what kind of smile to give them to make them swoon for me. What happened to me?_

Instead of venturing down that dark path of what _had_ happened to him, he closed his eyes and massaged himself again, coaxing his half-hard cock to attention.

_Bucky gets up from Sam’s lap on the subway, but this time turns around and stands over the Falcon, looking down at him. Sam gazes up at him, leaning back in the seat. With a half-smile, Bucky lowers himself onto the bench, knees on either sides of Sam’s hips. Sam presses his fingers into Bucky’s thighs and pulls him down hard, batting those long dark lashes at the assassin._

_“B...Bucky…”_

A loud bang on the door ripped Bucky out of his fantasy and he all but flung his hand out of his pants, banging it hard against the headboard painfully.

“Barnes, get up.” Sam barked through the door.

Bucky stumbled out of bed with a snarl and slipped on his cargo pants. He looked down at the cock making a perfect tent in his pants.

_You need to go away._

_Then you need to stop thinking about rubbing up against the flyboy..._

“Barnes! On the double” Sam rapped his knuckles against the door a few more times.

Bucky grabbed the doorknob and flung open the door...but angled his body to hide the more conspicuous parts of him.

“What?” he growled irritably.

Sam’s fist was still in the air, ready to punch the door again. It just hung there, and he looked dumbfounded at Bucky. His eyes dropped down for a split-second before slingshotting back to Bucky’s face.

Suddenly Bucky was _very_ conscious that he was shirtless, and felt the heat rise in his face. He wasn’t self-conscious about his physique, in fact he took pride in every cut of muscle on his broad shoulders and abdomen. But it wasn’t his body he was worried about Sam seeing. It was more of the long hideous scarring where his metal arm met his flesh. That tortured skin was pink and white and spidered across his chest in a way that turned his own stomach every time he faced the mirror.

He couldn’t imagine what Sam thought when he saw it. He didn't want to...

Bucky grinded his teeth together. “What.” 

Sam swallowed visibly. “Steve’s got a job for us. Nothing serious...maybe. He wants us to check it out make sure everything’s on the up and up.”

“I’ll grab my gear,” Bucky said and closed the door before Sam could reply, or stare, or whatever the damn bird was going to do.

\-----

The VW bug sputtered down the dirt road several miles outside of the city. Tall buildings gave way to squat houses in the first hour, and the scenery slowly declined to nothing but thick walls of trees lining the road. Though there wasn’t much to see, especially at 2 a.m., but Bucky stared out the window all the same.

At least his erection was gone...though even as he said this his mind, cruel as it was, tried to pry open more thoughts of Sam sitting in that subway, gripping his ass, moaning his name and...

With a sigh, Bucky slunk in his seat, pressing his forehead against the metal frame of the bug and tried to focus on the music. He didn’t recognize any of it, but occasionally Sam added his own soft voice to the unfamiliar crooning. It was...nice actually. He sang higher than Bucky expected, a melodic lilt that hit high notes gently, complimentary.

Bucky stared hard out the window when really all he wanted to do was look over at the Falcon to watch him sing.

“Ain’t too proud to pleeeeead, baby baby…”

Bucky snuck a peek at him anyway...

Sam was drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel to the tune of the horn section.

“Now I heard a cryin’ man was half a man with noooOOoo sense of pride.” His eyebrows knitted up as he hit the high notes and there was a playful smile on his lips. Bucky wondered if that's how his eyebrows looked when he was being pleasured. If those lips hung slack or if he bit them...

Or if his moans were higher pitched like his singing...

“But if I have to cry to keep you, I don’t mind weepin’” He glanced at Bucky. “If it’ll keep you-…what?” Sam arched an eyebrow.

Bucky’s eyes darted back to the road. “Nothin.”

Sam flung his hands up. “Seriously, why are you pissed now?”

Bucky blinked. He _wasn’t_ pissed. Why would he be-

When he looked up at the broken vanity mirror hanging in front of him he realized what Sam was talking about. He _was_ scowling actually. His brow heavy, deep lines framed his mouth. He hadn't noticed. He truly was enjoying Sam’s singing. But now Falcon was pissed and it made him mad that Sam would just _assume_ he was mad rather than just ask him.

He grunted and continued to stare out the window.

“Is it the music?” Sam pressed. “My singing? What?”

Bucky gritted his teeth.  “No,” he felt the words being dragged out of his mouth. “I like...it.”

“Like what?”

He shot a dagger-like look at Sam only to realize the flyboy was actually confused at Bucky’s comment.

_Don’t make me say this…_

“Your singing.” He mumbled, and this time he was fully aware he was glowering.

The grin on Sam’s face was mischievious and frankly, fucking annoying. “Did I just hear you compliment me? I know I’m imagining this right?” 

“I don’t like it that much.”

“Yes, you do, you enjoy my singing. Don’t try to take it back now.” The wider Sam’s smile got the hotter Bucky’s face became.

“Fine.” He said. A small hint of a smile slowly crept on his face too. He hadn’t realized how hunched over he had been for so long. Leaning back in the seat, he watched Sam cycle through the songs on his phone without taking his eyes off the road.

Soon another song was picked. It starting with a gentle electric guitar accompanied by the sounds of the ocean.

“Sittin in the morning sun, I’ll be sitting when the evening comes," The gentle warble of the man’s voice was matched perfectly with Sam who sang at a slightly higher octave. "watching the ships roll in and I’ll watch them rolling away again.” Something tugged Bucky’s chest, though exactly what he couldn't tell. It had been a long time since he had felt so intently about something.

Sam was moving to the music in a slow rock, his shoulders shifting left to right and gloved hands working the wheel in a rhythm that made something ache within Bucky.

There was something strong and vulnerable in Sam’s movements. Beautiful and masculine. He owned this music and it wrapped around him willingly.

When Sam glanced in his direction, still lost in the song, Bucky held his breath. “Sittin’ here restin’ my bones; And this loneliness won’t leave me alone,” those dark eyes, hooded and relaxed looked at Bucky with something very close to need, though Bucky didn't dare to hope it was need for him. 

_He is just into the song. Those eyes aren't for me..._

“Two thousand miles, I roam; Just to make this dock my home…”

_Still..._

Only when Sam looked back at the road did Bucky let out a breath. There were still fractions of his memory that he couldn't process, but Bucky knew that what he was feeling was something old and familiar and yet sitting next to Sam it felt new and terrifying as well.

As the song ended Sam flashed an ear-to-ear grin at Bucky that made his heart flutter unexpectedly. “I showed this song to Steve the other day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man get that excited over music before.”

_Of course this was too good to be true..._

A sudden knot twisted in Bucky’s gut and he hunched over again. “Uh-huh.”

Honestly, Sam was probably right. While Bucky kept his enthusiasm close to his chest, Steve was an open book. He sang loudly the songs he liked, and pretended to sing along to songs he didn’t know. The guy was infectious with his enthusiasm in all things, but with music it was a whole new level. And yet meanwhile there was stiff, awkward Bucky who would sit quietly next to Steve and listen. 

“I should show Otis Redding to Steve. If you like it, he probably will too.”

Suddenly all the reasons why Bucky couldn’t stand Sam came rushing back to him. _Everyone_ in the Avengers called Steve “Cap” or “Captain.” Except Sam, who was gradually calling him “Steve” more often lately. Bucky had enjoyed having the privilege to address him as Steve. Not that Steve actually cared who called him what, but in Bucky’s mind, seeing as they had been best friends since childhood, he had special permission above everyone else to call him by his real name.

Then this _flyboy_ drops in out of the sky and starts chumming up to Steve like he is some sort of replacement of Bucky.

Or working to get something more out of Steve than just friendship…

“What do you want to hear next?” Sam asked, giving another boyish smile at Bucky that didn't seem so charming anymore.

“How about ‘Sam Shuts the Hell Up for a While.’” He snarls.

Sam threw up his hands. “Yep, there it is. I knew that wasn’t going to last long. So fine, let’s just drive in silence. For another hour. Awesome.” He punched his phone angrily and tossed it into the central compartment.

Bucky fumed quietly the rest of the drive, which was a good hour of solid fuming. He couldn’t help it if he was protective of his best friend. If Sam wanted to try and bark up that tree, then fine, Steve was out of his league anyway and sweet on Agent 13 at that. So, it wasn’t even a tree worth barking up.

 _Not that he'd bark...He'd just playing songs that_ Bucky _likes until Steve comes down off that tree._

It honestly didn’t matter what words Sam was planning on saying next, Bucky was already planning on being angry at him.

As Sam put the car in park down a long, dark road he said, “We’re here. Try not to, ya know, blow me up or anything as we scope the place out.”

“Uh huh…” Bucky grunted slipping on his goggles and turning to reach for his sniper rifle.

“Hey,” Sam said, grabbing Bucky’s metal arm. Bucky felt the vibrations of Sam’s hand along his mechanical limb and reverberate through his chest. Alarms sounded off in his head.

“Don’t.” He snapped, wrenching his arm away. He hadn’t realized his other hand had already balled into a fist and was aimed at Sam until it was already done.

They looked at each other for a long moment, both wide-eyed. Sam with his palms up. Bucky’s hands in fists.

After too many seconds, they both lowered their arms.

“Bucky,” Sam said quietly, his slender brows furrowed, not in anger...maybe concern? Bucky dropped his eyes, not wanting to know which.

“We do this as a team, okay? We don’t like each other. That’s fine. But we are teammates and we have a job to do. We scope this place out. If it seems shady, we take the info back to Steve. If it’s nothin', we go back and get some much needed sleep. Alright?”

Sam held out his hand and smiled in a way that made Bucky feel sour he had pointed out they didn't like each other much.

Bucky wanted to take his hand.

Part of him ached for it.

Instead he just nodded quickly. "Sure," and hurried out of the cramped car.

 


	4. All of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Sam didn't get crushed by a building this time...but a giant magnet in the middle of the Hydra Compound didn't do any favors to Bucky and his metal arm. It was a tough fight, but not nearly as tough as the one Sam has to face when he tries to tend to Bucky's wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for this chapter is the beautiful Billie Holiday's [All of Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4P0hG3sD0-E)
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! [White-Rainbowff](http://white-rainbowff.tumblr.com/)

 

So...the big magnet in the center of the Hydra Compound put a damper on Bucky and Sam’s covert operation.  The moment the two of them reached a decent vantage point to scope the place out, Bucky’s arm began to shake. Before either of them could identify that the big black tower in the middle of the compound was in fact a magnet, it was too late. 

“Oh fu-” Bucky was pulled down the hill immediately.

A few of the guards just stared dumbfounded at the muscle-head who continued to curse furiously as he slid helplessly through their hideout, metal arm leading the way. By the time he hit the tower with a loud clang, the guards found their wits and sounded the alarm. 

Sam would have been dragged alongside him had he not slapped the release on his wings and belt, leaving him grounded, but also unarmed. The Falcon’s wings flew into the magnet just inches from Bucky’s head, and one of his pistols actually smacked Bucky in the face. Sam didn’t see this himself, but as he sprinted across the compound towards the control panel for the magnet, Bucky made sure he announced it loud and clear.

“Your fuckin’ pistol hit me in the face!”

Sam rolled his eyes and kept moving.

Most of the guards only carried plastic melee weapons, but that was more than what Sam carried...which was nothing. Still, the Falcon was far from helpless. He didn’t have his wings, but he still had his moves.

The first guard charged him, screaming maniacally, a long, electrified baton raised over him like a third-rate, discount mjolnir. Sam ducked away from the crackling rod easily, slammed his fist into the man’s gut and cracked his elbow into the man’s jaw. With a loud crack, the guard fell and the baton was his.

Sam laughed a couple of times watching these Hydra bastards flop around on the ground each time he poked him with this electrified stick. 

“I may need to change my name,” Sam said, smacking another guard along the chest, watching him drop with a giggle. “Lightning Bug, or maybe The Zapper.”

“Hurry up,” Bucky shouted.

“I’m working on it!” Sam snapped back at Bucky who had managed to slide into a standing position. 

The assassin had three guards lying in a heap next to him and a fourth came at him with a knife. He slammed his free fist into one guard’s jaw, sending him spinning through the air. The knife flew out of the guard’s hand, which Bucky managed to catch and fling at another guard’s neck. 

Sam punched and zapped two more guards before slowing for a moment to watch the assassin work. Bucky’s hair was slicked with sweat. His glower darkened his brow and he looked more like a beast on the hunt rather than a trapped animal. His powerful legs slammed into the chest of another guard with an electric rod that fell uselessly to the ground. No other guards wanted to come near him and he panted heavily, glaring at them through a curtain of brown hair, and wearing a feral grin on his face. 

“Who’s next?” He taunted.

Sam’s breath hitched...but only for a second, really. And his heart definitely didn’t flutter just then. His heart was just pounding because this is a very intense situation.

_ Very intense... _

Sam ran the rest of the way to the control panel. 

There were a lot of buttons on the panel, but all of them were helpfully labeled...in Russian.

A roar in pain sounded behind him and Sam’s heart lurched. He whirled around just in time to see Bucky clutching his shoulder pinned to the magnet, blood pouring through his fingers. The guard attacked again, aiming for the neck, but Bucky managed to raise his arm in time to block, the blade digging into his bicep. He snarled and grabbed the man’s chest armor, headbutting him across the nose, dropping the guard instantly.

“To Hell with this.” The Falcon slammed the electric rod into the control panel, sparks exploding everywhere. Lights flickered and the sirens faded away leaving the entire compound in complete darkness...and silence.

Sam ran straight towards the crumpled heap of Bucky. 

“Barnes, get up, we gotta go.” The blue glow from the electric rod shown more dark wet spots on Bucky than just the knife wounds he saw. Ice flooded Sam’s veins.

“Bucky?”

Bucky groaned and rose to his knees. “We gotta go,” Bucky said, in a drunken slur.

Sam rolled his eyes and helped the lug to his feet. “Yeah, good idea, champ.”

\-----

“Hey, stay awake, buddy,” Sam said, driving the VW bug with one hand and giving Bucky a light shake on the shoulder with the other.  

“I’m fine. Let me sleep,” was what Bucky was trying to say, but it came out more like “Ammfyn. Lemmeslee…”

Sam punched the assassin’s left leg, the only thing that didn’t seem to be injured. Bucky yelped and growled. 

“Stay. Awake.” Sam said through gritted teeth. “We have an hour to get back to my place and I don’t want you dying in my car before then. You’re ruining the seats as it is.”

A string of clumsy swear words poured out of Bucky’s mouth, but he straightened up in his seat and opened his eyes, though they still seemed dazed and unfocused.

_ An hour...how do I keep this guy awake for an hour? He isn’t exactly the master of conversation. And what exactly would we talk about?  _

“So…” Sam started, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

_ Come on, what do you have in common? What piques his interest? What can you talk about? _

_ What about Steve? We both liked Steve. _

“So...You talk to Steve lately?”

Bucky said nothing.

“You guys hanging out soon? I heard he’s going to be in town next week.”

Sam didn’t think Bucky’s scowl could get any deeper, but a shadow crossed over his face, and his jaw visibly tightened.

_ Okay...No talking about Steve then. At least he’s still awake though.  _

“That was some pretty great moves you made back there,” Sam said. “You learn that in the military?”

“No.”

“No? Did you learn it-”

_ Nope! Wait! Bad idea, Wilson.  _ Sam winced.  _ He probably picked up those moves as a brainwashed assassin for Hydra. Shit...okay don’t talk about Cap and don’t talk about combat. Goddammit, what else is there? _

“Do you like…” Sam poured through his mental arsenal of music. Something his grandmother listened to on her old records. “Billie...Holiday?” 

At this Bucky perked up. “Billie Holiday?”

“Yes?” Sam said with a weak wince.

“Yeah, I do.” Bucky shifted slowly in his seat, hissing at the pain, but at least more engaged. “I saw her play at the Apollo once in ‘41.”

“With your beau, Charlie Thurgood?” Sam grinned, pleased at himself to finally find something in common with the Frosty Soldier.

Bucky blinked, probably surprised Sam remembered. 

“Er...no.” And he looked away.

_ Dammit, Sammy, get back to talking about Billie.  _ “‘All of You’ is my favorite song. Have you heard of it?”

Bucky snickered. “It’s not called ‘All of You,’ it’s ‘All of Me.’ And yeah, it’s my favorite song.”

Sammy frowned. “No, it’s called ‘All of You.’ I know because my grandma had the album.”

“Okay...and I know because I  _ watched her sing it _ .”

“Yeah like a hundred years ago.”

“It wasn’t that long ago for me. And it was only seventy-five years ago.”

“Really? That’s the argument you’re going to make?”

“It’s not even her song originally. ‘All of Me’ was sung originally by Ruth Etting in ‘31.”

“It’s not  _ called  _ ‘All of Me.’” Sam snatched up his cell phone. “I’ll prove it.”

“You’re gonna get us into an accident.” Bucky shot back.

“ _ You’re _ going to get us into an accident.” Sam shot back...and realized it didn’t make a whole lot of sense, but he was so angry.

_ I try to find the  _ one  _ thing we have in common and he just  _ argues  _ with me for the sake of arguing. _

Bucky reached over and snatched the cell phone from his hand just as Sam tapped out the words “Billie Hol” and tossed it into the central console. He sucked in a painful breath.

“Just leave it alone.” He groaned and leaned back into the seat.

Sam opened his mouth to yell at the bastard for taking his phone, but the assassin was clutching his arm again and fresh blood was weeping through his fingers.

“Fine…” Sam said, pressing harder on the gas pedal. “Just...stay awake.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

The hour ride home was long and silent. Sam looked over at Bucky from time to time, and saw that the man had not only managed to stay awake, but also managed to maintain his scowl the entire way. At least he had enough energy to be pissed off.

Getting Bucky out of the car proved difficult. Not only was he growling and fighting Sam every step of the way insisting he was fine, but he was also heavy as hell. Almost heavier than Cap. 

_ What is with these Super Humans? Do they inject pure lead into their muscles? _

Sam kicked open the side door of his house, slamming his shoulder painfully against the doorframe to get Bucky inside. He managed to get him through the narrow doorway of the kitchen without taking his shoulder off entirely and leading him into the living room.

Bucky hit the couch with a loud thud and a series of curse words.

“I’ll get the med kit. I’ll be back.”

“I’m fine.” Bucky snapped. “I just need to heal.”

“Yeah, well, a bandage or two won’t hurt.”

“I’m made of the same stuff Steve is.” Bucky argued.

Sam threw his hands up. “No one is arguing that. And if Steve was bleeding all over my couch, I’d patch him up too.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you would,” Bucky said glumly.

Sam didn’t have time to ask what Bucky even meant by that, instead he just rolled his eyes and went to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

He found it, and several others piled on top of one another, beneath the sink. He popped it open and found it still had gauze, thread and needle and sterilizing agents in it. He snapped it closed and glanced at the mirror.

His reflection gave him a start. 

There was a streak of blood on his face, but not his. He looked down at his hands. There was dried blood there too. A lot of it had spilled on his clothes too. His grey jumpsuit was completely covered. 

_ If Bucky hadn’t been superhuman, he wouldn’t have made it… _

Sam slammed the first aid kit shut and walked out of the bathroom.

Bucky had propped himself up and was hunched over. Sweat poured over his face and he gripped his arms as if they would both fall off if he let go.

“Alright, let’s take a look at the damage.” Sam said, sitting next to Bucky.

“I’m telling you, give me a day or two, I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but my upholstery won’t be. You’re already starting to bleed on my couch.”

Bucky looked down to see a small drip stain on the dark brown leather. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and slowly unfurled his arms, turning towards Sam. 

It was a good thing Bucky  _ wasn’t _ human because otherwise he would have bled to death while Sam was stuck fumbling with ridiculous amount of the parachute clips, buttons and zippers to get him out of his gear. 

“You don’t make this easy.” Sam grumbled, finding the hidden clip that unhitched the harness, working the straps off of his shoulders and taking care not to agitate any of the weeping wounds.

“Why should I make anything easy for you?” Bucky grimaced, his voice strained.

Sam found the black buttons hidden on the even blacker leather vest and began popping them off. “Well, I do like when you play hard to get,” he said, focusing on a particularly hard button to pull away.

_ Wait...no… _

Sam looked up at Bucky.

Bucky looked back at Sam.

Sam felt the heat rise in his face just as a rosy color surfaced on Bucky’s cheeks.

“Just get the damn thing off,” Bucky said.

_ Good one, Sam. No wonder he hates you.  _

Sam pulled the last button free and the vest fell open, revealing a thin tank shirt covering a snowy mountain of muscles stained with blood. Sam leaned forward and slid the vest slowly off of Bucky’s shoulders. Bucky hissed at the pain, but stayed still to let Sam work. Sam meanwhile did his best not to acknowledge how close his face was to Bucky’s, how hot his breath was on his neck, or how damn good he smelled naturally, especially for a guy who never wore cologne or aftershave. The vest dropped to the ground with a loud thud.

With a whole lot of grunting from Bucky, Sam was able to coax the assassin’s arms over him to peel the soaked tank shirt off. Sam never noticed just how long Bucky’s torso was until it was stretched up. Those long ripples of muscles contracted and flexed as he moved.

_ Sam, dammit _ ... _ Focus! _

Bucky wasn’t wrong, he did heal quickly. The defensive knife wound on his bicep was already healing and there were two more nasty gashes on his ribs that were already starting to close up. Sam wiped the excess blood off and cleaned the wounds, focusing very hard on the injuries themselves and not the well-cut pectorals heaving and twitching at Sam’s touch.

Sam barely had time to tape the gauze on Bucky’s arm before he was pushed away. 

“Thanks,” Bucky grumbled.

“I’m not done, yet,” Sam said, eyeing the particularly nasty looking laceration on the left side of his chest, of which Bucky had angled away from him.

“I’m good,” Bucky grumbled and grabbed a full roll of gauze from the box and pushed it against the gash. He yelped as the movement pulled against the wounds on his ribs. 

“Stop,” Sam grabbed Bucky’s wrist. “You’re gonna open them back up.”

“Sam, wait...please…” Sam blinked up at Bucky who had retreated back beneath his hair again. A glassy stormy blue eye peeked through, looking at Sam. “Just...don’t.” 

When Sam looked closer at the wound, he realized Bucky wasn’t just being stubborn.

_ I’m an asshole.  _

A mangled web of scars stretched across Bucky’s chest where tortured skin met the metallic arm, a final gift from Hydra to their Winter Soldier. It was the one place on Bucky’s body that never healed fully. A permanent reminder that Hydra had scarred him beyond repair.

Sam dropped his arms. “Just...be careful alright? Let me know if you need help. I’m gonna go change.”

Bucky nodded. “Thanks, Sam.”

Hearing his name on Bucky’s lips when it wasn’t in anger made Sam’s nerves tingle.

“Sure.”

\-----

The shower felt good. Sam tried not to dwell on the bloody water that pooled at his feet, or how much of it was Bucky’s. Instead, he closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the hot water soothe his aching muscles, and not think about anything.

_ Least of all Bucky. _

Instead Riley popped into his head, as he often did. That wiry, grey-eyed kid with ears that stuck out and a mess of brown hair that looked like he cut it himself.

And that boyish smile that never seemed to leave his face.  

_ “Hi, I’m Riley!” _

_ “I know,” Sam had said when they first met, “we were assigned a week ago, I read your file.” _

_ “Right, yeah, well just in case you didn’t see the picture they put along with it, I’m Riley!” _

_ “Oh I did,” Sam couldn’t help the slight smile pull on his lip. The grinning kid was sort of infectious that way. _

_ “Good,” Riley said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good…” _

_ “I’m Sam,” Sam had held out his hand. _

_ Riley held it, but didn’t shake it right away, then remembered himself and shook it almost too hard. “Sam...Hi, Sam…”  _

_ That damn beautiful smile... _

Sam opened his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, shutting off the water and shaking off the ache that crept into his chest. 

He slipped on a fresh pair of cargo pants, buttoning a couple of buttons and leaving it at that. He didn’t bother with a shirt, cooling his skin from the heat of the shower and the less than stellar air conditioning in his room. Tossing the towel aside, Sam picked up a small framed picture from his nightstand. It was a picture of Riley and him heading out on their first flight together. Sam did his best to look like a badass while the camera was pointing at him. Riley, meanwhile, was waving, actually  _ waving, _ at the camera. Who does that?

Sam looked at this picture almost every night.

This time, however, his hands shook. 

Tonight had scared him.

Sam watched Riley get shot down not a hundred yards from him. There was nothing he could do, Riley was already gone by the time Sam got to him. It was instant. And all Sam could do was watch.

Tonight was too close to that...If Bucky had been anyone else, but him, Sam would be alone in his house right now. He would be on the phone to Washington explaining to Steve why a simple covert mission turned into a bloodbath with his best friend dead.

And he would never see those piercing blue eyes glare at him again. 

His heart pulled at that and he hated it.

_ And you promised yourself you wouldn’t get involved with another adventurous type. You wanted to find someone boring. Someone who has a normal life waiting for you when you get home. Something like what Hawkeye has… _

_ And in any case, Bucky can’t stand you. _

“Sam?”

Sam’s heart lurched and he nearly dropped the frame, placing it quickly back on the nightstand. He turned around to see Bucky standing in the doorway. His hair was pulled back on the right side, but still covered the left as he was not entirely ready to come out of hiding yet. 

He was still shirtless, the bandages on his right side were still intact and the left bandage was...well it was holding on for dear life. Bucky had slapped a large amount of medical tape on it in a criss-cross pattern over a mountain of gauze. The ends of the tape strips were curling back already, but it was holding. He held a black shirt in his right hand. 

“I can’t put this on,” Bucky said, his eyes lowered and his visible ear was the color of a fire engine. 

“Oh...um...okay, sure.” Sam was already walking  _ away _ from his shirts before realizing he was completely shirtless too and felt too awkward to turn around so…

...he walked up to Bucky and took the shirt from his hand. 

“Thanks,” Bucky said and raised his arms slowly with a pained groan. 

“You don’t have to wear this if it’ll bother you,” Sam offered. 

“I know, but I don’t wanna bleed on your guest bed if I can help it.”

“That’s...actually considerate.” Sam said, reaching up and slipping the shirt over his arms.

“Try not to die from shock. I’m not an asshole all the time,” Bucky said. 

Sam kept his eyes on working Bucky’s arms through the shirt holes, but was also very,  _ very  _ aware that Bucky was looking straight at him. And their faces were very close.

“I don’t think you’re an asshole all the time,” Sam sighed. “I just think you’re a dick some of the time, then an asshole the rest.”

This actually brought a laugh out of Bucky. An actual goddamn laugh. It was a low “hehe” kind of sound, but it was unmistakable.

...and kinda nice.

He pulled the shirt over Bucky’s face and gently worked the fabric over the bandages. Bucky’s head popped through and Sam bit back a smile as his brown hair fluffed around him in a very non-intimidating way. Bucky lowered his arms and straightened his shirt out with a wince. 

And because Sam couldn’t help himself, he pulled the few strands of hair away from Bucky’s face.

_ What the fuck, Wilson… _

Bucky didn’t pull away.

And neither did Sam...for a moment.

He lowered his hand and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you feeling alright?”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah.”

_ Aaaand we are back to one-word sentences. Good stuff… _

“Alright, well if you need anything.”

Bucky stepped forward, close, too close. Sam stood very still. Bucky’s eyes lowered and Sam felt a warm hand on his. He couldn’t even look up at Sam when he whispered, “I...actually…”

Sam’s heart pummeled his chest. “What is it, Buck?” He kept his voice soft, as though talking to a skittish wolf that was about to bolt into the night...or bite him in the face.

Bucky’s face pulled upwards, just a little bit. He looked almost...mischievous.

“I wanted to prove you wrong,” he said, “about Billie.”

Sam laughed. “Oh it’s like that, huh?”

The smile that spread across those pouting, sullen lips made Sam’s heart seize. That smile, paired with those sparkling azure eyes...Sam actually saw a glimpse of the old Bucky in those eyes. A Bucky he had only seen in old photographs on the Captain America websites. Those pictures were always of him smiling, just like this.

“Alright, you’re on. Let me put a shirt on first.” 

Bucky blushed. “You...don’t have to?”

Sam grinned. 

_ Was this happening? Are things actually going well? _

“Ya know,” Sam said, brushing up against Bucky as he passed him down the hall. “There’s only one computer chair.”

“I know,” Bucky said.

“Which means someone’s going to have sit on someone’s lap.”

“One of us could just stand th-”

Sam arched an eyebrow.  _ Wow, he’s been out of practice way too long. _

“I’m not sitting on that lap, again,” Bucky started walking down the hallway. “You’re too bony.”

“Bony? I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘muscular’ or even ‘brawny,’” Sam said, walking a little faster. 

“No,” Bucky’s broad shoulders practically took up the majority of the narrow hall. “I know I meant bony.”

He bumped into Sam playfully, but it also felt like being nudged by a rhino. Sam slammed into the wall and staggered forward laughing as Bucky sped down the hall, getting to the computer room first. 

He heard a loud creaking noise in the room.

“Hey, don't break my chair. I like that chair.”

Sam walked into the computer room, half expecting Bucky to be turned towards him, patting his leg with that playful smile. 

_ I wouldn't mind seeing that smile around here more often _ . Sam thought.  _ Maybe Steve could postpone the bunker search for- _

Sam froze...

And his heart sank.

Bucky was faced away from him, staring at the screen intently.

_ Shit. _

Steve had always talked about Bucky before the war. Always a smile on his face and a bounce in his step. Effortlessly charming the pants off men and even the skirts off ladies. He was a loyal friend, and a good man. 

And...Sam was curious…

It had honestly been a quick Google search, there wasn't much on Bucky Barnes, and way too much on Winter Soldier.

Sam found one site, though. It had a single picture of Bucky in his uniform from 1943 looking...goddamn dashing.

Hat tilted to the side, boyish smile on his face. Sam saw that same smile tonight, in fact.

When Bucky turned back around to Sam didn't see that smile anymore.

Sam really wished he had closed his browser last night.

“What's this?”

“Bucky…”

Bucky stood up. “Forget the song, I'm going out.”

“You're injured, you aren't going anywhere.” 

“Yeah, well, Winter Soldiers heal quick.”

“That's not you anymore.” Sam said, reaching out to grab Bucky’s arm. 

Bucky shoved him away.

“That man,” Bucky’s metal hand pointed to the smiling boy in the photo, “doesn't exist anymore. If that's what you want, I can't give it to you. This,” he pulled up his shirt sleeve up to reveal the scarlet star on his metal arm, “made sure of that.”

“Buck-”

Bucky marched through the door, and Sam had to jump aside to keep from being plowed over. Sam leaned heavily against the wall and hung his head, hearing the back door slam shut. 

A few moments later the motorcycle roared to life and faded away into the night.


	5. All of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy finale of dancing, kissing and a surprising "first time kiss" story.
> 
> The song "All of You" is from Billie Holiday. You can listen to it here :-)  
> [All of You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s0kLjiuT5ME)  
> 

 [Sam: Bucky, please come back.]

Sam hit send on his cell phone and waited.

He hoped that Bucky had a better understanding of cell phones than Cap. At the very least, Sam didn’t hear the default ringtone go off in the house. Maybe Bucky actually had the phone on him.

In the meantime, Sam sat on the floor in the living room, leaning against the record player while Billie Holiday sang through the speakers. The song was called “All of Me.”

Bucky’s favorite song.

The song Sam swore didn’t exist.

He played it on loop, trying to picture Bucky’s playful smile from earlier that night. He tried to hold onto the way those steel blue eyes softened just a bit, just for a moment. He struggled to remember the way the man’s body felt as they stood so very close together as Sam helped him put on his shirt.

Instead, the image of Bucky’s look of utter betrayal was burned into Sam’s mind. That damn website with a clumsily written biography and a single smiling photo of a carefree looking James Buchanan Barnes.

_“That man doesn't exist anymore. If that's what you want, I can't give it to you.”_

Sam’s heart seized whenever the sound of an engine roared by. It could be any engine. Car, truck, at one point a motorized scooter zoomed by and Sam’s heart did a loopty loop. Any and all sounds outside his house gave him false hope that the assassin would come back home.

 _Ex-assassin,_ Sam reminded himself. _That’s not Bucky anymore. And apparently neither is that man in the photo._

White noise crackled through the speakers on either side Sam as the song finished for the fourth time. He stretched up and lifted the needle, bobbing it a few times on the record until he found the familiar intro of Bucky’s song.

Sam wasn’t stumbling through the lyrics any longer and by the sixth time, he had the song memorized. The piano tap danced a soft introduction. The horns glided in next and laid out a red carpet out for Billie’s crooning, which sauntered along, asking -not demanding- why her beau hurt her so.

_“All of Me, why not take all of me._

_Can’t you see_

_I’m no good without you?”_

It was an hour before Sam heard the familiar roar of a motorcycle sound in the distance.

Sam didn’t dare to hope it was Bucky.

He waited for the bike to zoom past the house and fade away into the night.

It didn’t.

The engine quieted to a purr just outside then sputtered into silence.

Sam’s heart pounded.

Heavy footfalls followed.

The footsteps clopped their way up to the back door leading into the kitchen and stopped.

_“Your goodbye, left me with eyes that cry_

_How can I go on dear without you…”_

It felt like an eternity had passed before the door finally creaked open and those boots thudded inside. Sam looked anxiously to the doorway, aching to see that broody, sullen face again. Even if those blue eyes cast nothing but a cold glare at him, at least he would know Bucky was safe. At least he would be home.

Several moments ticked by and still Bucky didn’t appear.

Maybe he didn’t come in. Maybe Sam would hear the motorcycle speed away again.

_No, uh uh. He isn't going to walk away again._

Sam got to his feet.

“Bucky?”

Silence.

His heart sank, expecting an empty kitchen.

Instead, Sam peeked into the kitchen to find Bucky standing in front of the door, hands gripping the back of the chair at the kitchen table. His head was bowed, but his hair was curled behind his ears revealing...well not a scowl, at least. He was chewing on his lip, and his eyes darted to Sam before quickly dropping to the table.

Sam leaned in the doorway. “Hey,” was all he could think to say.

“You had the album?” Bucky asked quietly, his eyes still focused on the clutter on the kitchen table.

“Yeah…” Sam smiled sheepishly. “I actually did. I completely forgot about this song. It’s not actually my record it’s my grandma’s. She-”

“Is it a 45?” When Bucky looked up, his blue eyes glistened and he visibly swallowed. “She’s singing with her eyes closed?”

Sam felt his heart tug. “Yeah, actually, do you want to see it?”

A quick nod loosened some of the hair behind Bucky’s ear and fell over his softened face.

Sam turned and walked into the living room, not expecting those clodhopper boots to pad after him. But they did in a slow gait.

Sam picked up the album jacket and handed it to Bucky who held it as though he was handling a thin piece of glass.

Billie Holiday looked exquisite. Her curly hair was adorned with a pair of white gardenias. Her lipstick glistened and although it was a black and white photo, Sam pictured those lips as a deep shade of burgundy. Her eyes were closed, mouth parted slightly near a silver microphone as though whispering some secret desire to a lover.

Sam watched Bucky look over the 45, traces of a soft smile pulled at his lips. Still holding the 45 in his fingers, Bucky’s metal arm idly reached up and scratched his shoulder where the worst of Bucky’s wounds had been.   
Sam’s eyes widened. “Hey, let me take a look at that shoulder.”

 _The open road, riding in a motorcycle, what was he thinking? I’m not having the indestructible super soldier die from an infection in my house._   
Bucky stepped back. “I’m fine.”   
“The hell you are. You’ll be lucky if those wounds just opened up and didn’t get infected.” Sam took a step forward, but Bucky took a step back. Sam threw up his arms. “Bucky, look, I don’t care about your damn metal arm, or the scars. You think I don’t have scars too? I have plenty. I can show you...well, I mean I could...some are in places...nevermind. Look the point is, I don’t care!”   
“No,” Bucky said, his face abashed. “you don’t understand. I’m…not actually hurt anymore.”   
Sam arched an eyebrow. “You were bleeding all over my couch. I’m pretty sure you are.”   
With a sigh, Bucky set Billie’s record on the glass of the record player and pulled the collar of his shirt to the side. The bandages were gone. A thick red scar accompanied the ex-assassin’s collection of scars along his shoulder. It looked serious, maybe permanent. It also looked as though the wound could have been acquired a week ago, certainly not a few hours ago.

Sam arched an eyebrow. “Even Cap doesn't heal that fast. You could barely lift your arms when I helped you with your shirt.”

The bright blush flooded Bucky’s face.

“Wait a minute.” Sam ducked his head trying to catch Bucky’s gaze which darted everywhere except Sam’s eyes. “You were _healed_ when I helped you with the shirt?”

“No,” Bucky said quickly, but then deflated. “Kinda…” Then upon glancing up at Sam, he relented. “Yeah…”

Sam burst out laughing.

Bucky blinked. “You...aren’t mad?”

“Mad? God, no,” Sam replied, still laughing. “See I like _this_ Bucky more than that face on a website. I’ll take clumsy flirt Bucky over smoother than silk Bucky any day.”

“Hey fuck you,” Bucky said, but there was a glimmer of humor in his eye. “Clumsy or no, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess I'm a sucker for lame pick up lines like ‘help me put on my shirt.’” After the laughter died, Sam felt a small ache in his chest. “Hey, Buck, look...” He winced. “I'm sorry I snooped around for you on the internet like a creep. I just...fuck, Bucky, you’re a goddamn mystery to me. You never talk about _anything_. I just wanted to find something about you.”

“It’s alright, I know why you did it. I'm sorry I left. I...didn't know what else to do.” Bucky lowered his face and let his hair fall over it again.

Sam’s heart ached. He didn’t want Bucky to hide again. Not in front of him. Not over something that wasn’t his fault.

“Hey,” Sam kept his voice soft, approaching Bucky slowly as if he was approaching a skittish deer. “I’m glad you came back.”

Bucky didn't move. Sam’s heart pounded.

Sam Wilson was no stranger to making the first move. In fact, he prided himself on the smoothness of said moves.

 _“Could charm a wolf out of his coat,”_ his mom used to say. But with Bucky it felt different. This wasn’t a challenge, or a conquest. This wasn't about charming this wounded wolf out of his coat.

Sam wanted him to feel comfortable. He wanted Bucky to feel safe.

Sam’s fingers trembled as he reached up to brush the hair away from Bucky’s face. Bucky’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away, instead pressing his cheek against Sam’s palm.

Sam ran a thumb over that velvety stubble he had longed to touch for longer than he would ever admit. It was as soft as he imagined.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment before Sam’s eyes drifted to those soft, pouty lips. Bucky licked them idly.

The record skipped.

And Bucky looked up.

Sam sighed. _Thanks, Billie._ He walked over and took the needle off the record.

“Sam?” Bucky had his head cocked slightly, a peculiar grin on his face. “You haven’t acknowledged officially that I was right about Billie Holiday.”

Sam laughed. “That’s because I wasn’t wrong.”

Bucky flung his arms up. “You were _just_ playing my song!”

With an impish grin, Sam leaned down pulled out another album from the shelf. The record jacket displayed an aged Billie Holiday with an even bigger gardenia in her hair and wore a dazzling smile of a mature and confident woman.

“See?” Sam grinned. “I wasn’t wrong.”

In just a few fluid movements, Sam slipped the record from its sleeve, gave it a twirl and placed the record on the player.

“In 1954, Billie recorded this song, _my_ song, which was called ‘All of _You_.’” Sam placed the needle on the record.

After the initial static, gentle horns eased into the air. A few seconds they ushered Billie’s voice to Sam’s ears.

With a boyish grin, Sam snapped his fingers along with the beat as he strutted his way towards Bucky.

_“I love the looks of you,_

_The lure of you,_ _  
_ _The sweet of you,_

_And pure of you...”_

Bucky was already shaking his head when Sam grabbed his right hand and swooped him into a dance. Bucky continued to shake his head as Sam moved them across the living room, his feet stepping in a nonsensical two-step that he thought he may have seen in an old movie once. All the while he continued to sing.

 _“The eyes, the arms, and the mouth of you,_ _  
_ _The east, west, north, and the south of you...”_

“Wait, no.” Bucky rooted himself, nearly tripping Sam over his massive boots as he stopped.

Sam opened his mouth to apologize, until he saw the deep concentration etched in Bucky’s face. The ex-assassin was listening to the music. He was nodding to the beat. Something seemed to be sparking in his head...a memory maybe.   
“Okay, here.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist and pulled him close, and he didn’t use his right arm. He used the  metallic _I-don’t-want-you-to-even-look-at-it_ arm. The robotic fingers pressed against Sam’s waist delicately and with his free, warmer hand he clasped Sam’s palm, pulling him close.

Sam failed to act cool about any of this. He stared wide-eyed into Bucky’s eyes which were too busy focusing on the form, the steps. Sam could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“Part your legs a bit.”

 _No problem,_ Sam wanted to say with a bit of innuendo slipped in, but he behaved.

“Like this?” Sam adjusted.

Bucky nodded and began to move across the living room, taking Sam along with him. One-step, two-steps, skip a little, forward, backward, slight dip, forward.

Sam had agility on his side, always being one with the quick reflexes of the Avengers, but trying to match Bucky’s quick steps was proving difficult. Meanwhile, Bucky moved with ease, the stiffness in his forever tensed shoulders was all but gone. Those boots did nothing to slow him either despite thundering on the wood floor in a bassy rhythm.

“And spin,” Bucky twirled Sam and pulled him back in quickly.

“Whoa!” Sam fell hard against Bucky’s chest. “I’m usually the one who leads.” He huffed, recovering his balance. “I still outrank you.”

The grin that spread across Bucky’s face was all teeth and charm. It took Sam’s breath away. “Not on the dance floor you don’t, kid.”

Sam would spend the rest of his life holding onto that smile. He would never tell Bucky that the happy young soldier Bucky believed was dead was very much alive and well in that smile.

The song was only a few minutes long and Sam cursed it was the last song on the album. He wanted this closeness to last. He wanted that boyish smile to last.

_“For I love all of youuuuu…”_

The last line was repeated a few times and quickly faded out, the horns trailing behind.

It ended too quickly. The silence that replaced it was too loud.

Bucky stopped moving. So did Sam.

Moments passed between them and neither moved. Sam kept his hand clasped to Bucky, his other hand around the man’s firm waist. Sam looked into those eyes that had melted ever so slightly. His joints stiffened, afraid to move lest he break the spell of the moment. Very slowly Bucky’s lips drifted towards his.

“Sam…” Bucky started, his lip quivering softly.

Sam tilted his head up.

He drew in close. He could feel the warmth of Bucky’s quickened breath.

Panic hit Sam.

Something was going to happen. Something always seemed to happen when things went well between Bucky and Sam.

_Should I stop? Should I keep going? It’s impossible to know what he wa-_

Bucky pressed his lips hard against Sam’s. Those lips were warm, and wet, they parted slightly and Sam let out a soft sound into that beautiful mouth. When his tongue slipped in, Sam felt a warm hand and a cold one cup his cheeks gently. Bucky suckled Sam’s tongue gently before letting his own swirl around it.  

A low deep sound escaped from Bucky’s lips, sending a warm heat through Sam’s belly. It took all of him to resist the urge to tug on those tight cargo pants, to kneel down and draw out deeper, louder sounds from the man.

But then Sam found that Bucky was tugging on _his pants_ , pulling him closer.

Sam threw his arms around Bucky’s neck.

Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist.

They could not get close enough. Even as Sam pressed his body hard against Bucky’s he wanted more. He needed more. And the hungry kisses he received in return, the hard push of Bucky’s hips against Sam’s, it seemed the bigger man felt the same way. They kissed and licked and nipped at each other’s lips. Their breath growing heavy, small moans escaping as Sam felt that heat coil within his thigh, and hardening him. He pressed his firm member against Bucky’s pants and felt an equal hardness in return. The sensation, the knowledge that Bucky returned his need electrified him.

Suddenly Sam felt himself lifted into the air. Going with it, he wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist, pulling him closer, rocking into him, soft moans pouring into Bucky’s mouth.

Then they were moving. Bucky walked them towards the couch as if Sam weighed next to nothing. Slowly, he eased them onto the couch, Sam’s legs unwinding around his waist and settling in to straddle the ex-assassin’s thighs.

They broke their kiss for a moment, both catching their breath, looking into each other’s eyes.

After a moment, Bucky pulled away. “I...can we…”

_Yes, god, anything._

“...slow down?”

Sam smiled. “Of course, Buck.” Sam began to ease off of Bucky’s lap, but a metal hand stopped him. With a smile Sam settled back in, his hands lazily running up and down Bucky’s broad chest.

He hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

The giddiness he felt rise in his chest suddenly reminded him of his first kiss.

_“We supposed to be standing for this? Sitting?” Sam had asked._

_Max shrugged. “We can sit?”_

_“Yeah okay...eyes open or closed?”_

_Max rolled his eyes. “Do I gotta tell you how to breathe too? Let's just do it!”_

“What are you grinning at?” Bucky asked as he sank into the couch.

Sam hadn’t realized how big he was smiling at the memory.

“Just thinking of my first kiss, it was on the couch kinda like this one.”

“What was his name?”

“Max Landi. Cute, scrawny red-head in my eighth grade class. We practically flung ourselves off of each other when my mom came home. She gave us a weird look when we were holding our Nintendo controllers and the TV wasn’t even on.”

A chuckle came out of Bucky that made Sam’s heart swell. This time it was more vocal than the quick chuffing sound Bucky made earlier.

 _I’d tell a hundred embarassing first time stories if it meant hearing that laugh every time._ Sam thought.

“Alright, now it’s your turn.”

Bucky blinked. “Huh?”

Sam nudged him in the ribs. “Who was your first kiss?”

No words came out of Bucky’s open mouth. “...why?”

“Are you really asking me that question?” Sam arched an eyebrow. “Come on, I shared something about me, now  share something about you.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck and shifted on the couch. He mumbled something under his breath.

Sam thought he heard what it was, but...no he must have misheard. “What?”

“Steve, okay? My first kiss was Steve.”

Alright, so Sam probably shouldn’t have laughed. Or gawked. Or nearly fall off Bucky’s lap. Unfortunately, Sam did all three of these things. “Steve? Steve Rogers? Like Captain Straight-As-An-Arrow America?”

Bucky reddened. “Yeah…”

“I’m going to need the full story, Barnes.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You didn’t give me the full story on _your_ first kiss.”   
“Psh! That’s because my story is not _nearly_ as interesting as yours. Now spill it.”

Bucky grunted. “We were freshmen in High School. I told my mom I was going out with Steve, but I was actually going to see Robbie Sanders.” A shy smile tugged at those perfect pouty lips. “Steve borrowed the car from his old man. He picked me up and took me to Robbie’s house. His parents were out of town, so it was going to be just me and him all night. I sat in Steve’s car and…” Bucky smirked. “I was shaking so bad I didn’t want to get out.

“Steve says, ‘what you got to be afraid of? You’re Bucky Barnes. You’ve kissed practically every dame in school, what’s one guy?’

“I said, ‘Yeah, but I never no guy before, Steve. Maybe it’s different. Maybe I’ll screw it up. Maybe-’ and Steve grabs my neck and pulls me into this hard kiss. Hard as in we smashed our lips together and held them there for a good few seconds. I remember he smelled like red licorice since that’s all we had to eat on the way to Robbie’s house. Anyway, he pulls back and grins. ‘There ya go, pal. Now you’re a real pro.’

“I was floored. And I punched his arm, but it actually did take the nerves away.’”

Sam tried hard to keep his broad smile from splitting his face. “Did you guys ever...later…?”

“Me and Steve? Nah, we were best friends. He was like my brother. That kiss was probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for me, though. Well...not including everything else he’s done for me since then. But anyway...yeah…he was my first.”

 _Good old Cap,_ Sam thought, _being the hero even before he had the muscles to prove it._

“Alright, fair enough.” Sam rubbed his hands together. “Hit me. Any question you want. You’ve earned it.”

Bucky didn’t even blink. “Are you in love with Steve?”

Sam didn’t actually mean to laugh aloud. But he did...hard.

And he also didn’t mean for Bucky to say: “That’s what I thought,” and start to push Sam off his lap.

“No! Wait. No, uh uh.” Sam clenched his thighs tight around Bucky’s legs, digging his knees into the couch cushions. “You aren’t going anywhere,” Sam said, folding his arms.

Bucky arched an eyebrow. “You do realize I am a super soldier capable of flinging you to the side with my very scary, very _metal_ arm, right?”

Sam put his hands on Bucky’s shoulders. “And you do realize that I am the Falcon, and _you_ are helpless to my powers such as,” he flashed a boyish smile, “my undeniable charm and,” he pushed up against Bucky’s hips, “my powers of persuasion.”

Bucky bit his lip and sucked in a sharp breath. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Look, Buck. Steve, er, _Cap_ is a perfect specimen. I’m not going to deny that. He is literally engineered to be perfect. But I’m not looking for perfect. Turns out I was just lookin’ for-”

“You don’t know me,” Bucky shot back. “You know a man in a picture and stories from Steve.”

Sam cupped Bucky’s face in his hands, their eyes level. “Bucky, I'm not looking for the man in that picture. I'm not looking for anyone other than what's in front of me now.”

Bucky winced, but held Sam’s gaze, eyebrows knitted upward as he asked, “Why?”

Sam’s heart panged against his chest at the helplessness of that question.

“Because you _try_ , Buck. Because you got dragged through shit, was branded a villain and still managed to become a hero.”

Bucky flinched as though the word was a slap to the face. “I'm not a hero.”

“No, you really are. You’re more of a hero than anyone else on the team. You've seen the other side of just how bad things can get. Most of us fight to uphold some moral sense of justice. You do this because you truly know what happens when heroes aren't around. When the world is nothing but villains.”

Sam reached down and touched the back of Bucky’s metal hand. It contracted immediately, balling into a fist. His eyes never leaving Bucky’s he guided the closed hand up to his lips.

He kissed Bucky’s metallic thumb. Then the knuckle of his index. Gently, his lips coaxed the fist to relax. He brushed his lips against each metal finger.

Tears welled in Bucky’s eyes.

“And the biggest reason why I care is,” Sam said, whispering into his palm. “...you love my singing.”

The smile burst onto Bucky’s face before he could take it back. He let out a low chuckle that sent Sam's heart soaring.

“That right there is the man I'm looking for, Buck. I’m willing to spend a good deal of time working to keep him around if I have to.”

Bucky’s smile wavered but he didn't immediately hide it. “Your singing _is_ nice.”

“You're goddamn right it is,” Sam winked.

A buzzing within Bucky’s pants made Sam jump in his seat. Buck shifted slightly keeping Sam balanced easily on one thigh as he pulled the cell phone out.

“It’s Steve,” Bucky said, frowning at his phone. “He found a place for me.”

“Already?” Sam asked, his heart sinking a little.

“He wants me to check it out tomorrow.”

An awkward silence passed between them. Until they both talked over each other.

“Can you-”

“Can I-”

They laughed awkwardly, and both managed to rub the backs of their necks at the same time as well.

“This really is the _last_ place anyone would look for you,” Sam said. “Steve said that himself.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Bucky said quickly. “I mean, I can’t stand you.”

“And you annoy the shit outta me.”

Bucky grinned, those smiles seemed to come easier to him now.

He texted out a response, very slowly, to Steve.

“What’d you say?” Sam asked.

“I told him you and I agree here is the safest place for me.”

Sam’s heart swelled in his chest and he ran a hand through Bucky’s luxurious hair. “You know you are safe,” he said, quietly. “And I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe...to protect you.”

It seemed insane to tell this to a super soldier whose lap he was currently straddling, that he was going to protect him. But the safety Sam was offering was more than what physical brute strength could do.

And Bucky seemed to sense that as well because his eyes sparkled with tears. “I know…”

Bucky pulled Sam in close, drawing him into another long kiss. Their hips gently grinded against each other in a slow, easy rhythm. Their hands explored and caressed. They moaned softly and smiled often.

They would not notice Steve’s response until several hours later.

[Steve : :-)]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your support and comments on this fic! It has been so fun to write and I'm a bit sad it is over! I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr! [White-Rainbowff](http://white-rainbowff.tumblr.com/)  
> 


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